


Boredom

by ugandadistrict9



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Making Out, but its in sandtrap i guess, dont ask me when this takes place canonically its been a while since i watched recollection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7733131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ugandadistrict9/pseuds/ugandadistrict9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a couple o' guys bein' dudes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boredom

**Author's Note:**

> another one i wrote back in june. the prompt word was, as you can guess, "boredom".  
> yes this is also the 'back in sandtrap' moment i referenced in my fic, 'Disgusting'

“I’m so bored!” Tucker exclaimed to no one in particular as he walked down to one of the beat up, stone walls, in desperate search of something to do. A soldier in orange armour was there, leaning against it, staring off into the sand trap, propped up on one elbow.

 

“Me too,” he hummed, not looking away from the sandy wasteland. “Usually I’m okay with doing nothing, but this whole desert thing is just getting ridiculous, dude.”

 

“Yeah. At least back at Blood Gulch we had something to _pretend_ to do sometimes.”

 

Tucker leaned against the wall next to Grif, joining him in looking out at the empty desert. He sighed loudly. “You wanna like, go make out or something?” he asked, bored.

 

“Hm.” Grif clicked his tongue. “You know? Sure. I’d be down for that right now.”

 

Tucker looked over at Grif. “Wait, really?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, whatever, right?” Grif turned his head to look at Tucker.

 

Tucker couldn’t read his expression through the man’s helmet.

 

“Are you being sarcastic right now?”

 

“No, I’m serious. It’s not like we have anything better to do-- Wait, are _you_ being sarcastic right now?”

 

“No, I was-- no.” Tucker faltered. “I don’t really care, either way, I mean… You wanna?”

 

“Ehhh, why not?” Grif pulled off his helmet and brushed some of his scruffy hair out of his face. He yawned as he leaned closer to Tucker. “Sounds like fun.”

 

“Whoa-- what’s up with your face?”

 

“Oh, you don’t wanna know. Let’s just say, this half used to belong to Simmons.”

 

“That’s rough, dude,” Tucker said, pulling off his own helmet. He had a sharp, handsome face, and wore his hair in dreadlocks. It occurred to Grif that he’d never seen Tucker without his helmet on before. He hadn’t actually guessed that Tucker was black, either, but he wasn’t about to comment on that.

 

“I like your hair,” he said simply.

 

Tucker whipped his dark hair to one side of his face with a smooth toss of his head. “Thanks. I like your shave,” he droned sarcastically. “Now are we smooching or what?”

  
Grif scratched his unkempt stubble, humming indifferently. “Might as well. It’s not like anybody else is going to ask me that again for the rest of my lifetime. We’re kinda stuck in the space army, and all. All the girls we’ve ever run into out here are terrifying, or related to me.”

 

Tucker laughed. “Couldn’t’a said it better myself, dude. Bring it in.”

 

He didn’t hesitate, putting an armour gloved hand against Grif’s face and pulling their lips together.

 

Grif enjoyed the moment a lot more than he’d expected to. Tucker was a really good kisser.

 

Tucker pulled a face as he drew back from the embrace.

 

“Man, you are the _worst_ kisser I have ever met in my life,” he said, taking off his glove and wiping the saliva from his mouth.

 

“I take pride in that.” Grif followed suit, amused. “That just means everyone I ever kiss will be a good kisser to me. I’ll never be disappointed.”

 

“You know? I like your style.”

 

“Thanks. That was nice by the way.”

 

“Yeah? I get that a lot,” Tucker grinned, re-placing his hand on Grif’s shoulder.

 

Grif rolled his eyes. “You’re such a blowhard.”

 

“Bow chicka bow wow.”

 

Grif’s mouth fell open, amazed at himself for somehow not expecting that.

 

“That’s what I thought," Tucker said smugly. "Hey, Grif?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“What’s your first name?”

  
“Oh. Dexter. What’s yours?”

 

“Lavernius.”

 

Grif blinked. “Lavernius?” he repeated, disbelieving. “That’s…. quite the name.”

 

“Are you making fun of my name?” Tucker asked, sounding dangerously threatening.

 

“No, no, I’m just--”

 

“That’s racist.”

 

“No, I’m not being racist, I’ve just- I’ve never heard anyone with that name before.”

 

“It’s a black name, dude. You’re racist.”

 

“How is that-- I’m not even white!”

 

“You don’t need to be white to be racist!”

 

“Hey-- I know that! Have you ever _met_ Simmons?”

 

“Wait, Simmons isn’t white? I thought he was like, Dutch-Irish.”

 

“No,” Grif scoffed. “He’s Latino or something. He’s just self-conscious about it, so he acts all racist and claims he’s ‘Dutch-Irish’.”

 

“That’s…. really sad.”

 

“You’re tellin’ me. Simmons _is_ sad.”

 

“No, I mean, it’s sad that he’s embarrassed about not being white. Does he know you’re not white? You should talk to him about that. He should be proud of his-- of his heritage, or whatever..?”

 

“You don’t sound that sure of yourself there, _Lavernius_.”

 

“You’re doing it again. That’s seriously racist.”

 

“What did I do!?”

 

“You put emphasis on my name there, _Dexter_.”

 

“You know, I liked you better when we were kissing. You’re actually kind of a pain in the ass.”

 

“I could cause a real pain in your ass if you wanted me to…” Tucker fake-coughed,  “bowchickabowwow.”

 

“If you aren’t planning to kiss me again, just leave,” groaned Grif.

 

Tucker chuckled. “On it.” He leaned down to catch Grif’s lip between his teeth again.

 

Grif didn’t even get the chance to enjoy himself again before a loud, all-too familiar voice was yelling:

 

“ _What in Sam Hill do you two ladies think you’re doing!?_ ”

 

Grif sighed the heaviest sigh ever sighed in the history of sighs. “Hey, Sarge.”

 

“Canoodling with a member from another team! This kind of behavior is unacceptable! I’m not really surprised to see this from you, Private Grif, but I expect better from you, blue!”

 

“I’m sorry...what?”

 

“I’d never expect you to stoop this low. Kissin’ _Grif_? I shudder just sayin' those words. I’m disappointed in you, blue guy whose name I cannot be bothered to know.”

 

Tucker frowned, glancing at Grif. Grif shrugged.

 

“Now, Grif!”

 

Grif sighed again. “Yes, sir?”

 

“I never said you were on break, boy! Get back to work!”

 

Sarge turned and walked away.

 

“What the hell just happened?” Tucker asked, baffled.

 

“Just Sarge being Sarge. God, I hate this army.”

 

“Ditto, dude.”


End file.
